


with golden string

by bucketfulloffandom



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: (for some of them), Alternate Universe, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, alex: the real mvb (most valuable brother), damn teenagers !, pretentious shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-25 22:27:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13844313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucketfulloffandom/pseuds/bucketfulloffandom
Summary: "infinity times infinity times infinity times infinity / let there be light, let there be light, let me be right"a collection of drabbles inspired by sleeping at last's "atlas: space".





	1. sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been listening to nothing but sleeping at last because of vincent zhou, so this is all his fault. what a tool
> 
> but uhhhhhh yeah this is. a thing. there's really not a lot of variety bc i'm only really into a few ships and also i am Not Creative but uhhhhh i hope u enjoy this anyways? pairings and such are at the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> as always, kudos+comments are greatly appreciated!! thanks i love u guys
> 
> ALSO i made a figure skating twitter!! follow me [@yuzshos](https://twitter.com/yuzshos) if u wanna see me cry about vincent zhou's chinglish and sometimes shout into the abyss about whatever i'm writing. also i post drawings there sometimes! thanks :'))
> 
> -
> 
> nathan/vincent, established relationship. 573 words. rated g.

_With golden string_

_Our universe was brought to life_

 

Vincent reflects.

It’s easy, he reminds himself, to forget what really matters in his life. The media is a constant frenzy balanced between being a friend and a nuisance. His fans, though supportive, don’t really know who he is. Social media is a drug and his own hype is frighteningly easy to buy into.

So he picks out what matters: his family, his friends, his past, present, and future. The scrape of his skates against the ice. Nathan, warm and familiar by his side.

Like now, as he sits down on the cramped balcony of his hotel room, his diary in his hands and Nathan settling beside him. They look out towards the setting sun, silent when their hands find each other like they’re made to be intertwined, silent when Nathan leans his head on Vincent’s shoulder and his curls tickle the underside of Vincent’s jaw, silent when Vincent flips to an open page in his diary and sets his pen to the paper.

Yet it’s so easy sometimes, he thinks, to let everything fall away but what is here in this instant. Nathan shifts so his knees bump against Vincent’s. Vincent, nonchalant, knocks their calves together just because he can. Nathan’s smile in reply is heart-stopping and Vincent can’t get enough of it.

The sun burns low on the horizon; Vincent writes something about fiery skies and watercolor clouds. Nathan squints to read it as he writes.

“That’s a pretty good line,” he says, pointing at the words Vincent has just jotted down, the ones about space and time and their wonderfully significant insignificance amongst it all. “It’s pretentious—but like, in a good way. I like it.”

Vincent taps his pen against Nathan’s temple. Nathan wrinkles his nose in response. “You’re bad at compliments, but I’ll take it, since it’s the best I’ll get.”

“Your standards are too high,” Nathan complains.

“Says Mr. It Wasn’t Perfect So It Might As Well Be A Failure,” Vincent retorts. “We both suck at just settling, Nathan.”

“I settled for you,” Nathan says, but the corners of his lips tick upwards. Vincent simply sighs and writes something else in his diary.

 _“Boyfriend just ‘settled’. Insert tragic sonnet here_ ,” he reads out loud. “Look at this, Nathan. Look what you make me have to do. Nathan.” He turns his head to fix his gaze on his boyfriend, but as it turns out, his face is much closer than he realized, and Nathan is already watching him with some jarringly intense emotion that Vincent thinks could be affection, and his witty remarks die on his tongue.

“Hey,” Nathan says. His eyes are half-shut in contentment.

Vincent’s “hey” catches in his throat, coming out instead as a sort of choked grunt. He is struck by the sudden bizarre thought that Nathan is some sort of supernova and he is moments away from being erased from existence by the sheer power of his light. If he wasn’t so enraptured to the point of physical paralyzation, he’d write something along those lines down.

As it is, Nathan’s lips draw together in an untroubled smile and he leans forward to press a feather-light kiss to the corner of Vincent’s mouth before pulling away and resettling next to him.

Vincent’s not the type to swoon, but he’s damn close right now.

 

_That we may fall in love_

_Every time we open up our eyes_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is basically just an extended [björn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13794519) but shhhhhhhhh don't worry about it


	2. mercury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in light of ~recent vincent events~ on twitter, i’m Not Sure if i’m going to continue writing chenzhou, but this was already 90% done when all that started happening so i figure i might as well post it anyways. eh
> 
> -
> 
> nathan&vincent but with heavily implied nathan/vincent feelings. 2020 words. rated t for language.

He’s not sure how he got here.

The streetlights are harsh and yellow, and they buzz like a swarm of insects, incessant as he scuffs his sneakers against the pavement.

Nathan debates the possibility of him getting mugged and how crucial to his well-being it is to go back to the dorm; the obvious answers are “uncomfortably likely” and “very” respectively, but he ignores them. He keeps walking down this unfamiliar street, shrugging his shoulders against the slight chill, and admonishes himself for not at least throwing on a sweater before heading out.

He’s really only out here because of an impulse spurred by insomnia, leaving him shivering in his ratty old sweatpants and tshirt. At the very least, the cold serves as a distraction from the persistent nagging in his head that’s become a recurring problem since Pyeongchang.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. _Yikes_ , he thinks. Someone must have noticed him slip out.

When he looks at the caller ID, though, it’s not his coach, or Alex, who he’s sharing a room with. Instead, it’s Vincent’s stupid contact photo filling the screen - a press photo taken last year of him mid-quad, zoomed in on the unflattering expression on his face.

Nathan presses answer and raises the phone to his ear, saying, “Hey, what’s up?” as nonchalantly as he can. Maybe he hasn’t been found out yet, and Vincent just happened to wake up and for whatever reason decided to call him rather than simply walk down the hall to speak to him in person.

“Turn around,” Vincent says.

Nathan stops walking. “What?”

“Turn around- look across the street.”

Bemused, Nathan does as he’s told. There’s someone sitting on the bench of the bus stop on the other side of the road, hunched over, half-hidden in the shadows, but then they straighten and scoot into the light, and-

“What the hell, dude,” Nathan laughs as he hangs up the call, already jogging across the street to join Vincent under the bus shelter. “Why are you out here?”

“I would ask you the same thing, but I figure I can guess.” Vincent points a finger at him, face screwed up in hyperbolic thought. “You couldn’t sleep and teenage angst, amplified by having the entirety of the figure skating world watching your every move, threatened to eat you alive, so you made for the hills.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t read my mind,” Nathan sighs as he slumps onto the bench. Vincent laughs and shifts to make room. There’s a stretch of silence, wherein Nathan’s brain starts to helpfully provide things to think about that he’d rather not, and he says, maybe a little abruptly, “I’m tired, man.”

Vincent hesitates for a moment, like he’s caught off guard, then nods - in acknowledgement or agreement, Nathan’s not sure.

“Like, I’ve been alright lately, but today I’ve just been tired. You know?” He glances sideways at Vincent, whose eyes now seem fixed on some distant point. “You ever just sort of forget what the fuck you’re doing?”

Vincent’s gaze drops. His hands are curled in his lap. “Well.”

Nathan notices the shiver run through him and realizes that Vincent is almost as poorly guarded against the late night temperature as he is, the only improvement being long sleeves. Without allowing himself to really consider the consequences of his actions, he slings an arm around Vincent and presses their shoulders together. Instantly, Vincent’s shuddering is infinitely more obvious to him, but it fades away after a few moments, replaced by a slow seeping warmth making its way through Nathan’s veins.

“I… I think you just gotta remember where you are,” Vincent says. His voice is soft in a way that Nathan’s never quite heard it before. “Remember where you are and how and why you got there. Like right now.” He kicks his obnoxiously long legs out in front of him in indication of the graffitied bus stop they’re sitting at. “Why we’re here.”

It’s not a question, but Nathan finds himself trying to grasp for an answer anyway. Because he worked to be here. Because it’s part of his dream. Because he wants to leave a mark on the world that won’t soon be forgotten.

“Because we’re, as the kids say it, lit,” Vincent continues when Nathan doesn’t respond out loud, emphasizing the consonants on “lit” with what has to be the sole purpose of wanting Nathan to punch him. “Don’t look at me, you know I’m right.”

It’s stupid, but it dissipates the heavy cloud that had started to form over them, and Nathan is thankful for that. “‘ _As the kids say it_ ,’” he repeats exasperatedly. “You’re younger than me.”

Vincent just shrugs. Damn Vincent and his impenetrable defense.

Nathan’s phone goes off again. He checks, and immediately wishes he hadn’t, only to be confused as to why he’s suddenly so averse to the idea of going back.

“It’s Alex,” he hisses. “Should I answer it?

“Here, I got it.” Vincent plucks the phone from his hand and presses answer with a flourish. “Hello, this is the Krusty Krab, how can I help you?”

Nathan chokes on a laugh. Vincent flashes him a grin as Alex says something, unintelligible to Nathan.

“No, this is the Krusty Krab, sir, I don’t know what to tell you,” Vincent says. The grin on his face keeps widening. “Uh huh. No, sir. Afraid not, sir.”

Alex’s voice gets louder but still indistinct; Vincent winces and moves the phone a little further away from his ear.

“Mm, I see,” Vincent says in such a tone that Nathan highly doubts he really sees. “Yeah. Sorry.” He makes a _woops!_ face at Nathan as Alex says something that sounds a lot like _you are not sorry, don’t lie to me, Vincent_. “Will do. Right away, sir.”

“Stop calling Alex ‘sir’, that’s weird,” Nathan snickers as Vincent ends the call. Vincent hands the phone back, still grinning. “He chew you out?”

“Oh yeah he did,” Vincent snorts. “I think he thinks I brought you out here.”

Nathan feels something poke at his consciousness at the implications of that, but there’s a more pressing issue at hand: the rage of a certain Alex Shibutani.

“We should probably head back,” he sighs. A glance at his phone tells him it’s 1:42 AM. “I, for one, am freezing my ass off.”

“Fair enough.” Vincent stands. “I’ll race you? No- no I won’t. You’d beat me, you actually do things other than skate and I’m a nerd.”

Nathan doesn’t know how to respond to that. So he says nothing, and follows Vincent as he sets off back towards their hotel, watching the muscles of his back move through the thin material of his shirt and missing the warmth of Vincent’s shoulders against his. It’s strange.

“You still didn’t mention why you’re out here,” he blurts.

Vincent slows, but doesn’t stop. His shoulders tense for a heartbeat, but it falls away as he says, “I don’t know, same as you, really. I couldn’t sleep and I needed to get outside.” He turns. Nathan notices suddenly the shadows under his eyes. “Gotta remember where I am.”

Nathan offers a smile that he’s afraid is weak around the edges. “Yeah, I… yeah.” Eloquent.

Vincent’s gaze meets Nathan’s, just for a moment, steady. Something passes between them.

_We’re going to be following each other for a long time_ , Nathan realizes. Quad follows quad, medal follows medal, and every step Nathan takes on this street back to their hotel follows Vincent’s, even if the common narrative would suggest the metaphor to be the other way around. Nathan, surprisingly, is okay with that.

He mulls over this quietly. Vincent shuffles on. Nathan is halfway through considering the costs and benefits of every strange urge suddenly flooding his mind when Vincent comes to a halt. Nathan panics for a second, wondering irrationally if he’d said something out loud, but then realizes they’re back at the hotel.

Vincent holds the door open for Nathan as they walk in, and Nathan wonders why he’s unable to look him in the face.

They ride the elevator up in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Nathan sees Vincent lace his fingers together over his stomach, fidgeting. They both seem to be staring at their own shoes. The elevator dings. The doors slide open.

“Well,” Nathan says when they reach his door. Vincent’s room is another four doors down.

Vincent looks uncertain, chewing on his lower lip as he shifts from one foot to another. Nathan doesn’t blame him; he’s just about as unsure what to do from here. He wants - he _wants_ \- to reach out and take Vincent’s hands and say, _we’re going to be okay, I just have to remember where I am and why I am, and you have to help me through it, and we’ll be okay_ , to know that Vincent will be here, to know he has someone to fall back on.

What he does, however, is awkwardly pat Vincent’s shoulder, just a brief moment of contact, before he draws away, fumbling to get his key card out of his pocket with one hand. “I, uh- thanks. For hanging out.”

Vincent laughs just a tad bit louder than what is appropriate at this late. “If that’s what qualifies af hanging out with friends, I guess I really haven’t been missing out on much.”

Nathan splutters a little at that. “Okay, not hanging out, but- you know. Thanks for the company.”

“You too.” Vincent opens his mouth like he wants to say something more, but closes it before he can.

“Goodnight, I guess,” Nathan says. He cringes inwardly at how stilted his voice sounds.

“Goodnight,” Vincent echoes.

It takes much longer than it should for Nathan to unlock his door, namely because his attention is focused mostly on watching Vincent walk away. This is amended quickly once he pushes the door open and turns to find himself about to run into the chest of a positively fuming Alex.

Alex yanks him into the room and marches him over to his bed, where he makes Nathan sit before standing back with his arms crossed. Nathan looks up at him - Alex is _towering_ over him - and grins apologetically. This is terrifying.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Alex whisper-yells (because unlike some people, he has respect for their neighbors). “You skate in two days, and yet you find the chance to go wander outside in the cold at 1 in the morning?! Jesus, it’s like you don’t want to be here-” Alex cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Nathan, I don’t-” He’s holding his face in his right hand; Nathan feels guilt starting to course through him at the sight of Alex’s obvious stress. “I don’t want to be mad at you, it’s just… what were you thinking? What was _Vincent_ thinking?” His expression softens almost imperceptibly. “Is something up with you two?”

The ability to speak leaves Nathan entirely.

“Is there?” Alex crouches to be eye-level with him, and Nathan can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at the action.

“I- don’t know,” he finally manages to choke out. “No-? Maybe?” The look Alex gives him—somewhere between empathizing and pitying—stings. “No. I just couldn’t sleep. That’s all.”

“Alright,” Alex says after a long pause, turning away to go turn the lights off. “Get some sleep, kid. Last thing you need is to catch a cold.”

“Yeah, okay,” Nathan agrees dumbly. He feels like he’s suddenly acutely aware of just how exhausted he is. His limbs are heavy, his eyelids are heavy, his head is heavy where it’s balanced on his neck. “Sorry, Alex.”

Alex sighs. “It’s okay, Nathan.” He looks back at him, expression level, and says, “Vincent’s a handful, I know. Just don’t get too caught up in it, okay?”

Nathan wants to say yes, but he’s learned not take make promises he can’t keep. So he keeps his mouth shut, until Alex climbs back into bed, offering a _goodnight_ into the darkness of the room, and silence falls again.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu [@yuzshos](https://twitter.com/yuzshos) i need friends


End file.
